


Snow Falling Softly

by Downdilly



Category: The Real Ghostbusters
Genre: Gen, May induce sniffles in the sensitive, Post Life Experiences, Really only implied relationships
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-01-28
Updated: 2016-01-28
Packaged: 2018-05-16 22:13:20
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 921
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/5842957
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Downdilly/pseuds/Downdilly
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Ghostbusters--family forever.</p>
<p>Posted here instead of letting it rot on my hard drive.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Snow Falling Softly

**Author's Note:**

> Wrote this for something several years ago, and from the dates I'd say an advent calendar I missed the deadline for. Still, RGB was where I came back to in fandom and I have as soft spot for them still. Just passing time.

 

Laughter rang through the second floor of Ghostbusters Central. Built from a dozen voices from seven to seventy, it bounced off the walls, rattled a few select panes of glass and spun twice around the fire pole before echoing up the stairs and outside through the skylight. A gust of wind caught it and swirled it around before passing it along to dance with the snow ever-present in December.

Peter grinned from his perch in the stairwell; close enough to hear and see without intruding on the gathering below. Movement from the kitchen door caught his attention, attracted by the young woman bearing a tray of glasses of a dozen shapes and sizes. Scavenged from the cupboards to accommodate the entire crowd was Peter's guess.

His eyes scanned the crowd, noting who was there and who wasn't, new faces next to old in a comfortable array.

Winston, of course, gray hair and a few more wrinkles showing his age but his stance still that of a much younger man. He sat in the place of honor in "his" easy chair. His smile and laugh were freer this year than last, Peter noticed. Nicole had passed to the other side a little over two years ago; Ray had stood with Winston at the end while Peter and Egon did their best to make her transition easy.

The four Zeddemore boys were all there, along with three wives, nine assorted grandchildren, and of course the Twins, Keshia and Tanika, first great-grandchildren of the brood. Matt said something that set off another wave of laughter while he picked up a glass from the tray now resting on the coffee table. His wife's answer sent up an even louder shout of glee, and Matthew retired to the window ledge, lifting his glass in salute.

Soft footsteps and the rustle of cloth from behind him made Peter turn his head just as Janine Stantz stepped slowly down the stairs. Back straight and head high, she gripped the rail tightly, careful of every tread as she made her way back to the family warmth in the common room. 

He watched her pause on the step below him and tug her sweater a little tighter around her, shivering from a sudden chill in the warm room.

"Janine," Peter whispered after her, willing her to turn around even though she hadn't answered him for almost twenty years now.

"Peter," Egon's bass rumbled behind him, and Peter caught the slight startle from their former secretary before she shook herself and continued her decent.

"Figures," Peter muttered before turning his head and smiling up at his physicist. He patted the step next to him, pleased when Egon folded his long legs and rested next to him. "How's Ray?"

"Resting comfortably," Egon answered, leaning against Peter for a few minutes while he quietly took in the scene below. "Winston's looking well," he said finally. "And look at Jacob, walking already," he added, gesturing at the curly-haired infant staggering determinedly towards the stairs.

"I bet Janine looked just like that, at that age," Peter mused, "with the hair and skin and all." He shot a look over to where Janine was taking her place at one end of the couch, a jelly glass full of sparkling cider in one hand. "Except for the curls, of course."

Egon hissed next to him, grabbing Peter's wrist. "Peter! Look!" He pointed to the toddler who'd successfully reached the stairs and now sat suddenly on the floor with a squeal and a thump that only some hefty padding made painless.

Peter followed Egon's line and locked eyes with Janine's youngest grandchild. "Egon, he's looking at us!"

"I believe so. Fascinating."

Then, in an unprecedented display of social awareness and pre-verbal communication, Egon Spengler stuck out his tongue and crossed his eyes, sending the boy into a fit of burbling.

Struck dumb, Peter could do nothing but stare at his long time companion, then he chuckled. "Egon! You...fraud!"

"True science uses all available tools, Peter," he answered loftily. "Jacob laughed, ergo he saw me to laugh at me. Theory proven."

Metal tapping glass pulled both of them back to look at the crowd slowly rising to its feet, younger helping older and older rounding up children. Young Master Jacob was swept into his mother's arms and over her shoulder to rejoin the festivities. On the stairs, Peter and Egon rose as well, Peter leaning on the banister and Egon wrapping an arm around him and pulling Peter in for a tight hug.

The pair received a second shock when Winston's eyes met theirs instead of passing over them as they had so many times, and a slight smile crossed the aging man's face while he mouthed, "Soon."

Winston stood straight in the center of the room and let his eyes sweep across the extended family eighty-five years of life and love had given him before he returned his gaze to two of his oldest friends, standing in the shadows and frozen in the year they'd left him.

"Ladies and gentlemen," Winston said solemnly, raising his glass and making sure all eyes were on him while never looking away from the pair on the steps. "Who ya gonna call?"

"GHOSTBUSTERS!"

The glad cry and shouts and cheers built by twenty-some voices followed the trail blazed by laughter to drift over the city and fall softly with the snow. And if a Brooklyn tenor and an Ohio bass blended with them, well, that was only as it should be.

 


End file.
